


Ruins Without Home

by Shadow15



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Brainwashing, Bucky Can't Consent, HYDRA Trash Party, M/M, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Rumlow is a Big Bag of Dicks, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 08:37:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19059103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow15/pseuds/Shadow15
Summary: Rumlow knows what the other Hydra agents get up to behind closed doors with the Winter Soldier.  A man has needs, right?  It's only an asset; there's no harm in Rumlow taking for himself once in a while, too.  Not when the Soldier has so much trust in him as a handler, it's almost too easy to get away with every time.





	Ruins Without Home

The first time Rumlow had a night alone with the Soldier was after a mission gone wrong and a hasty retreat to the closest safehouse.  

“You stupid fuck!” The rocking of the van as it fled the scene made it difficult for Rumlow to keep his balance while standing, but he didn’t care; maybe if he were lucky, hitting a pothole would be just what he needed to finally drag a soft noise of pain from the asset.  “You dumb shit!  You compromised the fucking mission!  You fucking worthless -  Piece of shit fucking -”

Of course, as always, no matter how hard Rumlow kicked and punched the asset restrained in their specially-crafted super soldier car seat, the Soldier didn’t even flinch, much less make any noise; he simply stared on with those dead eyes that never betrayed his even deader expression.  Rumlow’s anger was fuelled by the never-changing expression; if he had a fucking stun baton with him, he’d have shoved it so far up the asset’s ass, it might have made a reappearance out of his mouth if Rumlow was lucky. 

But of course, as they ran like hell and hoped the clean-up crew would get there before anyone else did, all weapons had been hastily locked away without a second thought until they would arrive at the safehouse.  

Rumlow sneered at the thought.  He reached out and grabbed a handful of the Soldier’s long locks, forcing his head to the side at an angle that would probably be painful for a normal human.  But this expressionless fucker right here; he was anything _but_ normal.  

“Fuck on outta here with these!” Rumlow tore the goggles from the Soldier’s face and threw them over his shoulder.  “Creepy bastard!”

Rumlow eyed the muzzle over the Soldier’s face cautiously; he didn’t dare take that off as well, despite knowing the asset wouldn’t move a solitary muscle without being ordered to do so; sometimes, being rough on the asset came with a sort of anxiety at knowing they were provoking a vicious attack dog.  The muzzle was more about dehumanisation, anyway; the Soldier obeyed with his handlers present, and with Rumlow standing before him…

Well, Rumlow wanted to say that the Soldier would obey every order perfectly, but tonight must have been some sort of malfunction as a target who was supposed to have died a clean, _quiet_ death had had their brains blown out as they slept.  A wipe and reboot was most likely in order, but the asset hadn’t reported any malfunctions prior to or even after the events, and as he sat in his restraints calmly - _obediently_ \- he seemed perfectly controlled.

Rumlow would have to keep an eye on the fucker and ensure he didn’t malfunction before they could get him to the chair back at the base.  

They arrived at the safehouse in what must have been seven hours.  Probably sooner than expected, but then again, Rollins _was_ driving well above the posted speed limits.  Rumlow probably shouldn’t have been surprised.  

The team regrouped outside of the van, their young, new recruit standing guard with a rifle in hand in case they had been followed.  They hadn’t been, unless there was an ambush waiting further down the road for them, so Rumlow barked his orders at his subordinates, assigned watch duty, and then dismissed everyone.

“What about the asset?” Rollins asked as he eyed the Soldier warily, still in his restraints within the van.  It was no secret the Soldier wasn’t trusted to be out freely among Hydra personnel.

Rumlow waved a dismissive hand.  “I got Winter.”

“I hate when you call him that - sounds like a girl.” Rollins scrunched his nose up in distaste.

Rumlow shrugged.  “So what?  Creepy fuck should probably be treated like one.”

Rumlow got back into the van and swiped his personnel card against the restraints.  The metal opened up, allowing the Soldier freedom, but still he sat, awaiting orders.  

Rumlow smacked the Soldier across the face with his newly-reacquired stun button.  “On your feet, Soldier.  Follow.”

The Soldier prepared himself to obey, waiting so patiently still as Rumlow bent down to pick up the goggles from the van floor he had tossed away earlier.  His eyes still looked dead to the world, but they were fixed solely on Rumlow and nothing else, as if, for the time being, Rumlow was his entire world. 

In a sick, fucked up way, Rumlow supposed, he probably _was_ the Soldier’s entire world right now.  

The Soldier didn’t make a single sound as he followed Rumlow into the safehouse.  He stopped when Rumlow did, expectantly awaiting the techs who would come and take him to shower and dress down for the night.  They never came, and a slight shiver of nervousness made its way down the Soldier’s spine at the uncertainty he wasn’t accustomed to feeling with his handlers.  He knew the drill; obey his orders and don’t mess up and he will not be punished.  Disobey his orders and mess up and he _will_ be punished.  He knew he had done wrong; was this uncertainty his punishment?

The Soldier almost wanted to speak, to ask what was happening and why he hadn’t been taken for bath time as usual.  But the Soldier didn’t speak; not to anyone but Pierce and his handlers and only when he was given a direct order to respond verbally.

Rumlow nudged the Soldier in his lower back with the stun baton.  It had been turned to the lowest setting, and the Soldier didn’t even feel it; he didn’t seem to feel much of anything anymore.  “Move, Soldier.”

The staircase was on the other side of the entrance hall.  Off to their right, the couch in the living room was positioned well enough to give a clear view as to Rumlow’s position.  The group lazing about on the couch watched with interest.

Someone whistled as the Soldier’s feet moved without hesitation.  “Wow, you think he was ever that responsive for Rogers?”

There was a slap that resounded through the air, and someone who sounded suspiciously like Rollins hissed, “Don’t say that name around him!”

Rumlow cast a glance to the Soldier.  No doubt the Soldier has heard, but there was no reaction, no response in that tiny pea brain that had probably been fried one too many times for the Soldier to form any coherent thought on his own.

Rumlow took the Soldier upstairs to the one furthest on the left.  It had a good view of the road they had come in from, and with the Soldier, Rumlow knew not many people were going to get in undetected - none would leave with their lives, anyway.  He kicked the door shut once the Soldier had stepped inside.  He rubbed at his face with the heel of his palm and sighed.  Did he really think this through?  Willingly inviting the fucking _Winter_ _Soldier_ into his room where he was alone and mostly unarmed?  He wasn’t _suicidal_.

Ah, well.  Rumlow was his handler; the Soldier wouldn’t bring any harm to his handlers without a serious malfunction - the decades of abuse bestowed upon him by handler after handler proved that.  

“Fuck.” Rumlow pinched the bridge of his nose in agitation; if the stupid fuck hadn’t botched his mission, they wouldn’t even _be_ here with Rumlow in this shitty fucking position.  “Right.  Soldier.  Keep watch for now.”

The Soldier slinked over to the window in such an unnerving, _deadly_ fashion, Rumlow felt a twinge of fear in his stomach; thank _fuck_ he was the asset’s handler because he _definitely_ didn’t want this creepy fuck coming after him.

The Soldier concealed himself in the shadows by the window, an assault rifle in hand and the safety pulled back.  Rumlow nodded in approval and then turned his attention to himself.

Rumlow cursed himself for having not brought a clean pair of pyjamas in his supply pack.  Then again, the mission was supposed to be a simple one, and they should have been back at base by now, with the asset safely contained in his cell, and a nice warm pair of pyjamas on Rumlow as he slept peacefully.

Instead, he was standing in this shitty fucking room that looked on its way to dilapidation, with a fucking psycho freak with a rifle in hands across the room from him.  

Tonight was _not_ a good night.  

Not to mention the asset had still fucked up…  And he hadn’t been punished either. 

“Come here.” Rumlow patted his knees, looking much like a mock invitation of a child excitedly calling their puppy to them.  “Come here, Winter.”

The Soldier was not smart.  He was given orders, and everyone else directed his every doing.  He had no say or control over his own body; Hydra dictated everything, right down to having his bathroom breaks heavily regulated.  But the Soldier still noticed things, and he stored the information away in his mind for later mulling.

Rumlow never called the Soldier _Winter_ unless they were alone.   _Winter_ seemed to be reserved almost solely for rewards - but the Soldier had been bad tonight.  There were no rewards where punishment was due.  Not with Hydra - definitely not with Rumlow, who was one of the harder handlers the Soldier had followed.

“That’s it, Winter.” Rumlow’s tone was warm, _inviting._ The Soldier was confused.  So very confused.  Rumlow was the only handler he’d had who _didn’t_ give contradicting orders.  He lowered his rifle a tad, almost imperceptibly, but Rumlow always noticed these things.  “Come here.”

Another shiver of nervousness went down the Soldier’s spine.  He bowed his head in submission, just as he had been trained to do, and obeyed his unusual ordering.  He did not flinch when Rumlow’s calloused hand touched his cheek; the Soviets had beaten the flinches out of him long ago.  

Rumlow leant in so close, the Soldier could feel his hot breath on his face.  “You’ve been bad tonight, Winter.  So very bad.”

The Soldier still did not speak; he just stared with his dead eyes, and Rumlow had to wonder if the asset had heard what he had said. 

Rumlow shook his head.  His eyes wandered over the Soldier’s body.  He’d heard the whispers that weren’t really whispers but excited bragging, really.  Apparently, the Americans found more use for the asset than the Soviets ever had – although Rumlow had to wonder if the Russians also had dipped their dicks into the Soldier the way the Americans did at times.

Maybe they had; Rumlow certainly didn’t give a fuck whose dick had been inside the asset as long as the asset didn’t malfunction and carried out orders without failure.

Rumlow made a rumbling sound in the back of his throat.  His cock twitched a little in his pants.  From what he had heard, the Soldier took everything given to him without protest – and after the silly little stunt, the fucker had pulled earlier, maybe Rumlow _was_ right to punish him with something beneficial to himself.

“On your knees, Winter.” Rumlow wasted no time in grabbing the Soldier by the shoulders and pushing him down onto his knees.  He sneered at how obedient the asset was; perhaps a flash of recognition in his expression but nothing that could prove to be troublesome.  “That’s it~  Good boy~”

The Soldier stayed where he was, his eyes fixed solely on Rumlow as he awaited his next orders.  He heard the sound of a zipper being undone, but still, not a sound escaped his lips. 

Rumlow had his dick in hand, and a grin on his face that would have had lesser men running.  But not this creepy fuck; Rumlow had seen the bastard run into live grenades and take on attack dogs hellbent on ripping him limb from limb.  If ever a day came that the Soldier ran from something, Rumlow probably wouldn’t want to be around to witness it. 

“You know what this is?” Rumlow smacked his dick against the Soldier’s face with a sneer.  He couldn’t help but laugh as the Soldier remained as stoic as ever.  “Of course you do – you get enough dick from everyone in Hydra to last you a lifetime.”

At the back of Rumlow’s mind, he wondered if the Soldier’s parts still worked, or if they were as dead as the rest of him.  From all the times he’d been the Soldier’s handler, he’d never once seen him pop a stiffy – never known him to get… _recreational_ on his own whenever he was left alone but still within hearing distance. 

Maybe the fucker’s parts didn’t work anymore, and all he was good for now was taking dick up his ass and putting his mouth to use. 

“Hey.” Rumlow grabbed a handful of the Soldier’s long hair and yanked, _hard_.  “You gonna take it like a bitch for me?  I’ll treat you all nice-like, but you gotta keep those teeth off my junk.  You hear?  You’ve already been bad tonight; you don’t want to make it harder on yourself, do you, asset?”

The Soldier shook his head.  Still, he didn’t speak.

Rumlow’s grin widened.  “Such a good boy you are~  If you do a good job, I might think twice about punishin’ ya for your fuck up back there.  Okay?”

The Soldier nodded.  Rumlow wondered briefly if he were imagining the strange glint in the Soldier’s eyes that looked almost as if he were… _looking forward to this?_ It couldn’t be; the asset was stripped of everything but what Hydra needed for him, and they didn’t need him to retain his reproductive instincts.

Unless the asset had become so used to being fucked, it was something like the highlight of his existence at this point.  Man, how fucking _sad_.

“Right.” Rumlow reached behind the Soldier’s head and unclipped the muzzle, letting it fall to the ground between them.  “Open your mouth.”

The Soldier did as ordered.  He opened his mouth, but that was where his orders ended; he made no movement to swallow Rumlow into his mouth.  That didn’t matter, though; the second entrance had been granted, Rumlow was inside, buried to the hilt and so deep down the asset’s throat, Rumlow knew the Soldier _had_ to have done this more times than he would ever truly be able to remember to not choke on his girth. 

“Fuck…  So hot…” Rumlow tightened his grip in the Soldier’s hair and yanked his head to sit straighter.  He didn’t hesitate to thrust his hips in and out, slamming home so hard, he probably would have caused damage if the asset wasn’t a super soldier.  “Take it like a fuckin’ bitch, you whore.  Take it!”

The Soldier’s hands didn’t move, not even to take Rumlow by the hips; he simply knelt there before Rumlow, looking so much like a lifeless sex doll, Rumlow probably should have been unnerved.

The Soldier kept his eyes open and focused on Rumlow as his throat was fucked so violently, he probably would have been jerked all over the place had he not mastered the art of keeping his balance under the harshest conditions.  He watched the way sweat beaded on Rumlow’s forehead, how heavy his handler’s breathing was becoming.  From all his experience, he knew his handler’s release was imminent. 

“Fuckin’ dirty slut,” Rumlow hissed as his thrusts became erratic at the approach of his orgasm.  His eyes wandered down to the Soldier’s pants, too lost in his own pleasure to feel the disgust he would have normally felt at seeing the asset’s pants tented with arousal.  So the Soldier’s parts _did_ work.  This information would come in useful in the future, Rumlow gave a split-second thought to before he scrunched his eyes shut and let out a loud grunt at his release.

The Soldier drank everything, swallowed every drop down his throat obediently, just as he had been taught to do.  When he felt Rumlow pulling out of his mouth, he chased the retreating cock with his tongue, lapping at the flesh and trying to get every drop he had missed.  He stayed on his knees, his eyes never once leaving Rumlow’s form, even as Rumlow zipped himself back into his pants.

Rumlow ignored the Soldier’s arousal, as if it didn’t exist at all.  The asset had no use for his own pleasure; if Rumlow caused a malfunction, it was _his_ ass that was going to be flayed for it.  He turned his back to the Soldier so he could eye the king-sized bed in the corner of the room.  “Soldier.  Sleep.”

Rumlow missed the look of disappointment on the Soldier’s face – at least, as much disappointment as the asset was capable of showing.  He heard the asset shuffling around, but he paid no heed to it; he focused on undressing, dropping his own clothing carelessly to the floor before he approached the bed and pulled the blankets back to climb in. 

The asset was curled up on the floor beside the bed the next time Rumlow paid him attention.  There were no blankets, no pillows for him as he laid there, on the cooling floorboards that would probably become freezing as the night crawled on. 

But Rumlow did nothing about that.  It was just an asset.  Comfortability was not something Hydra offered to their assets.  Besides, Rumlow wasn’t the kind of guy who liked sharing his things, and the asset was probably used to the cold by now anyway.

Rumlow said nothing as he curled up beneath the warm blankets and went straight to sleep.  The Soldier, however, grew more and more disconcerted as the hours ticked by, the coldness of the night exaggerated by his body’s inability to regulate his body temperature.  Brief images flicked through his brain.  They went by so fast, he couldn’t see what they were.  But there was something… _familiar_ about the cold, and whatever it was brought the fear back to the Soldier.

The Soldier kept his eyes on the bed that night.  More specifically, he kept his gaze on his handler.  It must be warm up there, but beds were not for assets.  Assets were to sleep on the ground as they didn’t have the worth to sleep anywhere else.  Assets were below their handlers, and whatever their handlers said was to be obeyed without imperfection. 

But still, sometimes the Soldier just wished for a bit of warmth, if nothing else. 

 

 

 

 


End file.
